


The Widower and the Minister

by monstertam3r



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Short, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstertam3r/pseuds/monstertam3r
Summary: A Dramione Short StoryA grief-stricken Draco Malfoy decides to answer a summons by the Minister of Magic regarding his business dealings. While they cannot reconcile their differences on the subject of quidditch teams, they find other common ground.This is not my world; these are not my characters.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	1. One

Draco Malfoy stood on Platform 9 3/4 and watched the Hogwarts Express leave the station. He put his hands in his pockets to hide the slight tremble. Since Astoria's death, Scorpius' departure for school had become an exercise in self-control. Draco put on a happy face for his son, knowing how much he loved Hogwarts. He nodded and made small talk with other parents on the platform. He looked the part of the proud father, sending his independent son off to school. But September 1st was a day he dreaded for months in advance. He missed his son terribly when he was away.

He would return to Malfoy Manor and drink himself into oblivion. It was a new tradition of his after sending Scorpius away to school. He would set the time turner on the long, empty table and stare at it. He could go back. Return to Astoria in a previous time. Hold her again, touch her, kiss her beautiful, full mouth. But he wouldn't. The risk was too great. He had learned that lesson all too well.

The Potters stood a few paces away. Ginny waved at the train until it was out of sight, and Draco envied her the ability to freely cry at the separation from her children. He pulled some of the lining of his cheek between his teeth and bit down hard. The pain helped him focus, and to keep his eyes clear. He just had to hold it together until he got home. 

"Malfoy," said Harry, extending a hand. "Good to see you."

Draco shook the other man's hand. He and Harry still weren't friends. They probably never would be. But they had reached a comfortable truce, and neither seemed eager to revive their old enmity. 

"And you, Potter. You're looking well. How's the Auror business going?"

"Oh, you know," said Harry. "Never a dull day."

Draco didn't know. He'd never wanted anything to do with the Ministry, though he had bitterly disappointed his father by refusing to pursue a career there. Lucius and Narcissa had retreated to a permanent home in Fiji after the crushing disappointments dealt by their wayward son and his unreasonable, Muggle-loving wife. They had not returned after Astoria's death. After all, the woman had corrupted their only grandchild and caused irreparable harm. It was just too much for them to bear. Draco didn't miss them. 

"I heard you've been investing in quidditch teams," said Harry.

"Here and there. I need something to do with my time and money."

Ginny had joined the conversation, and she raised her eyebrows at this comment. The Weasleys were much better off than they had been years before, but she had grown up poor, and none of them would ever understand the stupid amount of wealth Draco had at his fingertips. He could spend, and spend, and spend, and never run out. 

"How is your family, Mrs. Potter?" 

There. That had come out without a sign of strain in his voice, and was appropriately polite and general. He was getting better at this.

Ginny and Harry exchanged a glance, and Ginny smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt. "Fine, thank you for asking. Are your parents well?"

Odd. Ginny's frown remained, and Harry's lips had pressed into a thin line. Trouble in the Weasley house? He didn't ask. He didn't care enough.

"They're in Fiji," said Draco, with a dismissive wave. "They plan to stay for the foreseeable future."

"You're welcome to come over for dinner sometime," said Ginny. "It must get lonely in that big house all by yourself."

Draco willed is face not to twitch. "That's very kind of you, Mrs. Potter. Perhaps I'll take you up on the offer. It was good to see you both."

He turned and fled as fast as he could and still retain his dignity. The Potter's civility was one thing. Their pity was intolerable. Was that how the rest of the wizarding world viewed him? Poor, pathetic Malfoy, holed up in his manor with no one to talk to and nothing to do? Probably. The thought sickened him. 

He was pathetic, and he was lonely, but he'd never admit it to any of them. If he lost his pride, he really would have nothing left. 

He aparated home, and wasted no time finding his favorite bottle of Scotch. He settled down in front of the fire. The time turner rested on the table, undisturbed. Scorpius would never touch the thing. The Ministry wanted it back, but Malfoy Maner was a safer place to keep it. Too many witches and wizards had access at the Ministry. 

Well into his eighth finger of Scotch, Draco started to relax and release his death grip on his grief. He missed Astoria with a physical ache he couldn't control. He knew he always would, but it was worse when Scorpius was gone. He didn't think of her every second anymore. Nor every minute. Sometimes, he went hours without thinking of her. Then it would all crash back down on his head and tear open the ragged, unhealed wound. 

This was his life now. Drinking himself to death, spending his parent's money, and waiting around for his son's school breaks so he could revive some small purpose in his sad, pathetic little life. 

An owl zipped into the manor, and dropped an envelope into his lap. He stared at it. It had been ages since he'd received a letter. The bird departed, and Draco clumsily tore open the seal. 

He laughed. 

The Minister of Magic requested his presence to discuss "concerns over the dwindling diversity in ownership amongst quidditch teams, security concerns at matches, and rumors of widespread gambling."

He read the letter again and tossed it into the fire, and threw back the last of the Scotch.

A tangle with the Minister of Magic would certainly take his mind off of his sorrows for the time being.


	2. Two

Draco rarely visited the Ministry. After the war, he had actively avoided the place. Avoided the people from his past life. He didn't care if they saw him now. When Astoria was alive, they had been happy to sequester themselves away. Now, though. Now he couldn't always avoid it. He'd ignored requests from the Minister in the recent past. He had decided to honor this one on a whim.

Best not to piss her off too many times in a row by refusing to appear.

He made his way through the lobby, ignoring the looks his presence inevitably generated. He wore Muggle street clothes, not proper robes, and his forearms were bare where Voldemort's mark lay. His past was colorful, to say the least. While he had been a child for most of the war, he still retained his family name and some level of responsibility for carrying the burden of their sins. Still. He had once envisioned a world where he would be free of the Malfoy legacy. Now, he knew better. 

Draco wound his way through the Ministry, passing aurors as he went. The Minister must keep security fairly tight, even in these times of peace. He stood outside of her door and prepared himself for battle. The name plate read, Hermione Granger, Minister of Magic. He frowned at it, not quite sure why it didn't look right. 

The door swung open, and he entered. Granger sat behind her huge desk. She waved him forward with one hand, whilst the other continued to drag a quill across a piece of parchment. When she finished, she docked her quill, folded her hands in her lap, and pinned him with her stare. 

"Please sit, Mr. Malfoy," she said. 

He glanced around her office while he sat in the chair she had indicated, looking at everything but her. They had a more sordid history than most. He had tormented her at Hogwarts. It was fair to say that their relationship as children had been rooted in and grown in hate. He wasn't the same person he had been. Namely, he had abandoned his parent's poisonous ideas about Muggles and mixed-breed witches and wizards. But he had spent plenty of time insulting this witch and making her life a living hell.

He wanted to ask her to call him Draco, but that didn't seem right. In his head, he still thought of her as Granger. 

"Your invitation for this meeting was a pleasant surprise," said Draco. 

Granger had not lost her withering stare. If anything, it had grown more severe. "This one struck you as pleasant, whilst the previous four weren't?"

He had ignored four prior summons. 

"My apologies. I've been busy. It was not my intention to ignore you."

"Mr. Malfoy, let's not play games. You and I have never had a workable relationship. For that I am sorry. But we must work together now on the items I mentioned in my missive."

She picked up a parchment and scanned it. 

Draco glanced at her, and then did a double take. He hadn't really taken the time to get a good look at her. The office was dim, and she was behind a desk and stacks of important-looking parchments. She looked awful. Even when he hated her during their Hogwarts years and the war, he had found her disturbingly attractive. He thought it was a moral failing at the time, to find a Muggle girl beautiful. He hadn't dared mention it to anyone else. 

She had aged in the years since, but the beauty still remained. Her hair, still dark and long, was tugged back into a severe bun. She stood and turned her back on him, pacing toward the window of her office with the parchment she had been reading. She never wore robes, preferring instead the Muggle business attire that made her look more like the CEO of a company than a witch. 

"Are you ill, Minister?" 

Her eyes snapped to his, and she frowned. A bit of pink tinged her hollow cheeks. Was she embarrassed? She was otherwise pale and tired looking. He had been right. She looked sick. She had lost weight, and the skin beneath her eyes was smudged a tired gray. 

"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Malfoy. I'm quite well. Now, the first concern I have is regarding the accumulation of quidditch teams. You do see how a monopoly in ownership has raised concerns among members of the wizarding community?"

"I own but two teams. How does that create a monopoly?"

"Yes, when you put it like that, it certainly sounds like I'm being unreasonable. However, your son also owns two teams. As he is a minor, you are managing them. Which means that of the six English quidditch teams, you alone control four." 

This was probably not the right time to tell her that he had recently acquired the Holyhead Harpies. Since it wasn't technically and English team, being from Wales, he had purchased it under a business name and not divulged his identity. It wouldn't take her too long to put two and two together. Not many wizards had the resources to go around purchasing quidditch teams when the mood struck them.

He missed the old ministers who didn't care one whit about quidditch or financial stability or any other such nonsense. Granger was too smart for this job. She probably didn't even know it. She could run the quidditch empire he was attempting to build better than he could. 

"I am far from a monopoly," said Draco. He leaned back in his chair and tracked her with his eyes. She continued pacing. Her heels made soft clicks on the wooden floor. "I like the decor in here. It's very minimalist chic."

"Don't change the subject," snapped Granger. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. That was rude. Please forgive me." 

There was a little of her old spirit. He was glad to see it. He smiled at her, which caused her to blink a few times and continue pacing. Why was she so anxious? If push came to shove, and she was afraid of him, she could outmatch him. She always had been able to. 

"You're forgiven. May I ask why you're so anxious? If you're uncomfortable in here with me alone, I'm fine discussing these things in a more public setting."


	3. Three

Before she could answer, a note zipped through the air and Granger snatched it. She opened it, read it, and lit it on fire. If it burned her hand as it turned to ash, she made no sign of discomfort. Draco waited and watched. 

"Would you like tea?" 

"Here, or would you prefer to go out? I know a lovely little tea shop in Chelsea. My treat."

"You're suggesting we go to a Muggle tea shop?"

Draco shrugged. "It's good. If you don't mind my obviously inferior state of dress." 

He wore an old pair of jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and trainers. 

"What the hell," said Granger. "Let's go."

The staring on the way in was nothing compared to what they encountered as they left the Ministry. The Minister of Magic walking through the lobby with Draco Malfoy? Where was Rita Skeeter?! This was 'front page of the Daily Prophet' material. Granger walked along as if she were the only person in the building, ignoring everything around them. 

A few calls of, "Minister! A word!" came from the crowd around them, but Granger didn't acknowledge that she'd heard.

When they were topside on the street, she took off her blazer and handed it to him. "If you don't mind?" 

"It's not really my style."

This woman was stone-cold. No matter what he said, she did nothing but frown, in varying degrees of severity. She leaned out and hailed a taxi. He opened the door for her, and she climbed in. He followed.

"Where to?" said the driver.

Draco gave him the address. When the driver had pulled out onto the road, Draco looked over at Granger and found her pulling pins out of her hair, placing each one in her pursed lips as she removed them. Knowing his next move might cost him his head, he reached over and tugged the handful of pins from between her lips and placed them in an open palm. She continued to work, using his palm for the remaining pins. 

Her loosed hair tumbled down around her shoulders, and she scrubbed her fingers over her scalp. "I'm trying to relax my appearance a little." 

She unbuttoned the top few buttons on her collared shirt, and Draco looked away. There was no possible way she knew how attractive he found her. Most of the time they'd spent together in the past had involved him criticizing her looks. But this "relaxing of appearance" was unsettling. He found himself wishing he could help with those buttons, and pinched his leg, hard. He had gone mad. That was all there was to it. 

When they arrived at the tea shop, he offered her a hand to help her out of the cab. She looked between it and his face, and then accepted. She didn't frown at him. Progress. 

"At least we aren't wearing robes," she said. "These poor Muggles don't deserve to have their lives interrupted by weirdos. How often do you come here?"

"Not often. I used to come with," he trailed off. 

He used to come with Astoria. She loved tea shops, and they toured many in London. 

Granger's face softened. "I'm sorry. She was an amazing witch. You must miss her terribly."

Draco's throat tightened, and he pulled the door to the tea shop open and followed Granger through, glad to have a reason to break the piteous look she was giving him. Always with the pity. 

Granger chose a table in the back of the shop in the corner. It was strategically the perfect location to watch all of the other patrons, who came and left through the front door, and the staff entering and exiting the kitchen. Some habits died hard. The war had left scars and paranoia in its wake. He hadn't heard of a witch or wizard being attacked in years. As long as Granger kept up this habit, she'd know if one came.

Draco ordered tea. While they waited, Granger pulled her legs up beneath her in the booth and leaned on the table. 

"I don't have the time or energy to deal with quidditch squabbles. Help me out of this. Is there some grand plan here? Are you really trying to create a monopoly? I haven't been to a game in years. I don't care much about it. But it does exist, and I do have to deal with it."

"Why are you so tired?"

She blinked. "Because in my job, I am forced to manage situations such as potential quidditch monopolies, and I have much more important things to do." 

"Yes." 

The frown returned. "Yes?"

"Yes, I intend to buy all thirteen teams. Why not?"

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. He loved tripping up brilliant people. "Because. You can't!"

"As you said, it's a stupid game. Who cares if I own all of the teams? What better way to streamline the security and control the betting process. After all, if I own every team, it won't matter to me who wins. It removes the potential for problems from the start."

"No. The teams won't stand for it."

"They don't have to know. It can be our little secret."

He winked at her, and smiled at the creeping flush that stained her cheeks. Huh. 

"How's your family?"

She scowled at her fingers, still a bit soot stained from the note she had burned in her office. 

"The children are doing well at Hogwarts. They like their teachers, and are challenged in their studies. How is your son doing?"

The waitress brought the tea, and Draco dismissed her before she could serve it. He poured two cups, and placed one in front of Granger. She absently poured honey and cream into hers. Interesting. The cream was a given, but the honey surprised him. It seemed like an extravagance, and she didn't strike him as the extravagant type. 

"Scorpius is doing well." Draco took a sip of his tea. "And how is Weasley?"

Granger started, and sloshed some of the tea onto the table. He reached forward with his napkin and sopped it up. Then he topped off her cup. He had either overstepped or just stuck his nose into a mess. Either way, he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.


	4. Four

"I'm sorry I asked," said Draco. 

Granger didn't answer him, just stared into her tea cup. 

After the silence stretched to an uncomfortable length, he said, "Hermione?" When she met his eyes, the cold, dead look in hers chilled him to the core. "Did he hurt you?" 

Draco had changed in many ways since they were children. But he had never lost his tendency toward anger. The rage he felt in this instant consumed him. He didn't have time to pull the circumstances apart and examine why he had such a reaction. The Minister of Magic did not need his protection. She didn't need a champion. She was one of the most capable witches alive. But he was still livid.

She took a careful sip of her tea. "No. Not...not like you're suggesting."

"You can talk to me about it," said Draco. "If you want. I'm not sure if you know or not, but I hold my confidences very close. Reclusiveness has its benefits."

"I left him," she said in a whisper. 

Draco had not expected that. Not from Hermione Granger, the girl who could do no wrong. "I'm sorry to hear it." And he was. A divorce was like a death, and he had plenty of experience with that.

"We used to get along. But things changed. I changed. He didn't. He's working at the joke shop. It's fine. Joke shops are fine. But we grew apart. I was closer to Ginny than him. We just stopped talking, and after a while, I looked around and realized there was nothing left."

Draco sat and waited. She would continue or she wouldn't, and there was nothing he could say, anyway. 

"I broke so many relationships with that decision," she said. "With the Weasleys. Ginny feels like a traitor if she stays in touch with me. His parents are so angry. The kids. Harry. Everyone at the Ministry who was loyal to him from his auror days."

He stood up and moved to the other side of the booth and slid in beside her. He handed her another napkin, and she blotted the tears away that were spilling down her cheeks. 

"Before we left, I received a note that the Prophet would break the story of the divorce in tomorrow's paper. I want to crawl into a hole and hide, but I can't. Because I'm the bloody Minister of Magic, and there's never a break. Which is why dealing with this quidditch drama pitched me right over the edge."

"I see." Draco felt bad now. He had no intention of altering a single thing in his plans for Great Britain's quidditch empire. He still didn't. "I'm sorry to have added to your grief."

"My kids will see it in the Prophet tomorrow. Not only do they have to deal with the fact that I'm their mother on a daily basis, but now they have to listen to their peers jeer and laugh about this. It's not fair, and I can't protect them from it."

"I have some experience with having a notorious parent and attending Hogwarts. It's not as bad as you think. Their friends will help smooth it over."

They finished their tea in silence. 

"We don't have to talk about quidditch," said Draco. "If it would help, I can draw up a detailed business plan and have it on your desk in a few days. Then you'll be able to view my proposal without having to deal with me in the process."

Her cheeks were stained with tear tracks, her skin blotchy. Her lips were swollen, puffy, and red from crying. And Draco hadn't seen anything so beautiful in a very long time. He caught himself staring at those lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss her. His hand twitched to cup her face and pull her against him. Stupid! She probably still hated him from the horrid way he had treated her when they were children. He wouldn't blame her if she was repulsed by him.

Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and Draco pinched his leg again and put all of his attention toward suppressing the strangled intake of breath that action dragged out of him. He wouldn't have seen her tongue if he hadn't been staring like a fool at her mouth. 

"Draco?" she said, her voice soft. 

He got control of himself and tore his gaze away from those lips. "Hm?"

The despair in her eyes had vanished. It was replaced by curiosity.

"I'm a Muggle."

"You're a beautiful Muggle. The most beautiful I've ever seen."

"Oh. I had heard you'd changed your mind on that subject, but I never quite believed it."

She leaned closer to him as she spoke, and his breathing quickened. What was this witch doing to him?

"A lot of things have changed about me. I'd be glad to discuss them with you over dinner."

"That sounds nice. I'm going to pretend like I'm not the Minister of Magic for the rest of the day."

"Can I make a suggestion?" He lost control of his hand and it slid up her neck and into her loose hair. 

She nodded and leaned even closer.

"I know a place where the Ministry will never find you. A place no one alive, not even the renowned Auror Harry Potter, would think to look." 

At her nod, he tossed some cash onto the table and tugged her out of the booth and into the back hallway of the tea shop. When he was sure no innocent Muggles were around, he aparated both of them to Malfoy Manor. 

Hermione had been here before, and her memories of the place wouldn't be pleasant. As soon as they stepped out onto the lawn, he turned to her and cupped her face in his hands.

"I apologize for how I behaved when we were younger. You should know that I have always found you breathtaking. It was a source of significant strife for me when I was young and stupid. I'm sorry for what happened to you during the war as a result of my family's actions."

She grabbed the front of his t-shirt, pulled him against her, and pressed her lips to his.


	5. Five

"It's been a long time," said Draco between kisses as he used his wand to open every door from the front to his bedroom. 

He hadn't touched another woman since Astoria. He hadn't thought he would ever want to. 

"For me, too," said Hermione.

Draco pushed the thought of Ron doing this with her right out of his mind before he lost his nerve. What a git. Draco was sure there was plenty of blame to go around for their divorce, but Ron Weasley had never been a smart man. If he couldn't hold onto this beautiful, brilliant woman, he deserved what he got. 

Their path to his bedroom resembled that of a drunk. They bumped into walls, stumbled up steps, and left a path of clothing in their wake. He finally got his chance to unbutton her shirt, and what he found beneath was worth the wait. While thinner than she should be, Hermione's curves were still in tact. The cherry red bra was removed and dropped into his mother's favorite vase on the way by. Mother would faint if she knew what was happening right now.

"What do you want from me, Hermione?" 

She pulled his bottom lip into her mouth and pressed her teeth into it. She hummed in thought, but didn't answer. 

"Let me rephrase." He pressed her into the his bedroom wall and pinned her arms above her. "Am I to be gentle?"

She laughed, a deep, throaty sound that had him ready to push into her on the spot and to hell with all of this foreplay. 

"Not if you want to do this again."

"Again sounds wonderful."

"How would you know? We haven't gotten through this round yet."

"I know."

He spun her around and pressed her into the blankets. He gripped her hips and ran his lips and tongue up her thighs. He pressed his tongue into her center, learning the taste of her. She writhed and moved against his mouth, making the most glorious noises. She had no control of her reactions, and he loved having this power over her. Hermione Granger was utterly bare to him, and had handed over complete control of her body. 

"Come here," she said, panting after her release. 

He obliged, and wasted no time sinking himself deep inside of her. She gripped his hair in fists as he moved in and out. She hadn't been kidding when she said she liked it rough. No matter what he gave, she tugged against him, asking for more, more, more. 

When it was over, she pressed herself against his side. He circled his arms around her and breathed in the scent of her hair.

"You're not that skinny boy I knew at Hogwarts." 

That was true. He'd spent a lot of time exercising to work off the alcohol he consumed in increasingly larger quantities.

"And you're not that little girl I remember, either." 

He cupped a breast in one hand and squeezed, earning her teeth against his neck.

"Did this really just happen?" she asked.

"Yes. Do you regret it?" He wasn't sure he wanted the answer. 

"No. I don't."

"What now?"

"Rest for a while, Malfoy. I'd like to see what you have in mind next."

He pulled her face up to his and kissed her. 

"I have it in mind to take you from room to room in this awful house and remake your memories. When I invite people over to join us for dinner, I want you to be thinking of what we did on that table. I want them to look at you and wonder why you're so happy with a monster like me, and not have a clue how much you enjoy the things I do with your body."

"We'll have people over for dinner?"

"Oh yes, darling. But they won't stay long. I have plans for you at night. And if you don't come home, I'll join you at the Ministry and we'll make some memories for you in that posh office."

"It will cause quite a scandal." 

"That's what Malfoys are good for. Scandal."

"Let's keep it quiet. For a while. The optics aren't good. You're a recluse, but you still have a lot of political power." He began to protest, but she kissed him to silence. "You do. It doesn't matter if you don't want it, or even if you recognize it. And I have amassed a substantial amount of power myself. The joining of those two will cause some discomfort."

Was she saying what he thought she was? He leaned back and looked her in the face. "You sound like you're staying."

She hooked a lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly shy. "If you'll have me. It might not work out. But...I like you. I'd like to see where this goes."

She puzzled him. She'd never made any indication she anything other than hated him. 

"You're not the only one who fantasized about people who were off limits in the past. I'm not here on a whim, you know."

He didn't regret his time with Astoria. He wouldn't have given it up to have this earlier. So many good things had come out of each of their heartaches. But now that this had happened, he saw no reason not to continue.

"I'm going to build my quidditch empire, and to hell with the Ministry."

"We'll see about that."

He slid a hand down her belly and stopped between her thighs. "Perhaps I could persuade you to see it my way."

"You can try."

The next morning, Hermione retraced their path through the house, collecting her clothing. He had to show her where he had deposited her bra. She wore one of his shirts with nothing underneath. 

"You don't really have to go in this early, do you?"

"I do. They're probably already wondering where I am."

The front door was wide open, and when they entered the foyer, they came face to face with Potter. He stood on the doorstep, wand raised. 

"Good morning, Potter," said Draco. "Having trouble getting through my wards?"

Harry's eyes flicked back and forth between them, taking in Hermione's disheveled hair and bare legs beneath Draco's shirt. He made as if to speak several times, shook his head, and sheathed his wand.

"I'll see you at the Ministry, Hermione," said Harry, and he turned without another word and walked away. 

"That wasn't so bad," said Draco. "Will he tell anyone?"

"No. They wouldn't believe him if he did."


End file.
